


It was Only Just a Dream

by kit123



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kit123/pseuds/kit123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was Only Just a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Post season 1 fic, because Lydia needed more screen time. This was also my entry for the Teen Wolf fanfic contest :).

Lydia wakes up. It’s cold and painful, and machines are beeping all around her. She feels like she’s floating, like she could just fly away and nothing would be able to bring her back.

_That’s where you’re wrong sweetheart,_ a voice whispers inside her mind. _But don’t worry, I won’t let you break too much when you hit the ground_.

Lydia wakes up and wonders, _haven’t I done this before_? Except no, she hasn’t. She’s at the hospital, she’s been attacked, there was…something.

_Me. There was me._ A laugh echoes in her head. _I’ll be quiet for now – so quiet you won’t even know I’m here_.

Lydia wakes up and feels disgusting. Like dirt has crusted to her body and she hasn’t showered in days. Her parents are there (though never at the same time). Allison visits, Stiles visits. Jackson doesn’t. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised.  She takes a shower to wash away any expectations she had for him.

_You’re better than him anyway. He’s just a tool to be used by anyone with a vendetta. But you, my dear, are a rare commodity indeed. Precious. I’ll take care of you._

Lydia wakes up and feels naked. This is partly due to the fact that she is physically naked, wandering in the woods like Eve before she ate the apple, and at the thought her stomach growls. She doesn’t know the last time she ate. She doesn’t know the last time she slept.

She doesn’t know a lot. Eve didn’t know anything either, until she was tossed out of paradise.

_You don’t need to know anything. You don’t even need paradise. You’re perfect just the way you are_.

Lydia doesn’t cry because her mother always told her tears were a sign of weakness. You have to be strong to survive.

_And you are. So strong. I couldn’t ask for a better vessel_.

Lydia wakes up and feels violated, like something ripped her to shreds and then tore her mind apart. Her hand is bruised, covered in blood and glass from the broken mirror. Her mother sends her to therapy, her father foots the bill. Parenting at its finest.

_Therapy’s overrated. I’ve always found that actions heal more than words. There’s no need to bare your soul to her. Not when you have me. Just keep up your perfect, smiling façade and you’ll be fine._

_(Someone help me.)_

She doesn’t talk to the therapist. She would talk to Allison, but Allison doesn’t have time. Neither does Jackson. Stiles leaves her alone in the parking lot, but it’s nothing new. People are always leaving her behind. She doesn’t remember how she got home.

_We made a few stops along the way. So much to do, so little time._

Time isn’t working right anymore. The days pass too quickly, but the hours drag on unendingly.

_(Stop. Please stop.)_

_Not yet._

Lydia wakes up to a boy who smiles at her and hands her a flower. He’s dangerous. She’s not stupid (people have accused Lydia of many things over the years, but stupidity is not one of them), she knows there’s something wrong with him. She knows there’s something wrong with her.

_Don’t you recognize me? I’m almost hurt. Don’t worry I forgive you. You’ll know me soon enough._

Lydia wakes up to a shell of a house, and a body burned beyond recognition. She knows who it is now.

_Isn’t it appropriate?_ He curls in closer to her, runs his hand along her cheek. She’d flinch away, but her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. _It’s like your mind given physical form. My mind too. Both of us, burned to shreds. But you’re strong like me Lydia. You know how to put the pieces back together. That’s why I chose you._

Lydia wakes - 

_No, no, my plan is on a timeline. Can’t have you interfering._

Lydia -

_Shh. Just sleep. You don’t want to see this anyway._

Lydia wakes up to death. A dead man smiles at her, worms crawling over his corpse. Her corpse. She doesn’t know where he starts and she ends. He strokes her hair gently, so gently, and she closes her eyes against the memory of his teeth ripping into her skin. Blood never washes out properly and her mind is drowning in it.

_You can’t admit it to your waking mind though, can you? Lydia Martin, the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend. Anything less than perfection will not be tolerated. We’re going to accomplish things you’ve never even dreamed of._

Lydia wakes up and it’s the morning of her birthday. Her party is tonight. Last year she sent out invites and notice to everyone weeks in advance, to make sure they all knew to attend. It’s a big event.

Allison looks at her like she’s worried, but the time for talking has passed. She doesn’t even remember what she wanted to talk about. It must not have been anything important.

_No sweetheart, not important at all. You should rest up. Big plans tonight, and you need to be strong enough to see it through._

Lydia wakes up looking into Jackson’s eyes. For one desperate moment she thinks he can save her, but he can’t even save himself. She’ll have to do all the work again. Typical boy.

_Now, now, I didn’t give you permission for this. I have much more to do before tonight. Go back to sleep Lydia._

It’s almost a relief to sink back under. It’s not fair. Today is her birthday. Shouldn’t it be happy?

_It is happy. A happy birthday for both of us. Well. A re-birthday for me. Isn’t it a nice ending? Everything lines up so neatly._

Lydia wakes up to a nightmare, to a face that took her body and a voice that took her mind. She screams and doesn’t know how to stop, because she’s been screaming internally for so long that she’s lost everything else.

She wants to go back to sleep. She never wants to sleep again. Her body is hers, her mind is hers, and she’s never going to be clean. She feels hollow without Peter, relief and despair mixing together to fill the hole he left. She’s broken, she’s shattered, like her mirror, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men won’t be able to put her back together.

“You don’t need kings,” Peter says silkily, crouching in front of her. She remembers his voice from the field when he left her bloody and unconscious. She remembers his voice from her mind when made her a puppet but aware.

He cradles her face in his hands. “I told you I’d take care of you,” he says softly. “Everything will just be a dream. You’ve been sleeping Lydia. It’s time to wake up.”

Lydia wakes up and doesn’t know why she’s crying.

She gets out of bed, walking to the bathroom. The mirror on her dresser is broken – when did that happen?

She washes her face, to remove all trace of tears, and takes out her makeup bag. She has to reapply her foundation three times because her hands are shaking so badly. Her eyeliner keeps smearing because she can’t stop crying.

“What is wrong with you Lydia?” she shouts at her reflection, slamming her hands on the bathroom counter. Her legs collapse out from under her, without permission, and it’s weird, so weird, because she almost expected to hear a different voice. Which is ridiculous. She’s the only one here. Who else would be speaking?

She gasps for breath, she’s scared, she’s _terrified_ , curled up in a ball on the floor of her bathroom.

Why can’t she stop crying?

_Be strong_ , she thinks. _He said you were strong._

_(Who said?)_

She stands back up. She applies her makeup. There’s no trace of the trembling girl from a few minutes ago.

She leans forward, looking her reflection in the eyes and thinks, _You are Lydia Martin. You don’t need_ anyone _to put you back together_.

She tosses back her hair, walks out of her room head held high, and doesn’t scream, doesn’t scream, doesn’t scream.

_That’s my girl._

 


End file.
